


Kitten

by Iost



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alcohol, Attempt at Humor, Bad Ending, Boners, Crack Treated Seriously, Denial of Feelings, Hoodies, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Nicknames, Past Lives, Post Epsilon, Tattoos, This Is STUPID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:51:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6915334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iost/pseuds/Iost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Washington is an asshole and calls York rude nicknames.</p><p>York just wants revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> On phone  
> Terrible WiFi

York had been trying to figure out a nickname for Wash for awhile now. But none of the names he thought of seemed to be working.

He was trying to get revenge on the rookie, after calling him “Pop Eye” one day. It wasn't funny, but everyone seemed to crack a smile. Hell, even Carolina snorted and Tex patted the younger man on the back.

Which was not okay, and York needed a revenge nickname as soon as possible. But, like said before, all the other names had failed.

For example, Freckles which was shut down immediately after he realized Florida had freckles too, and Blondie which backfired harshly when both the Dakota twins turned to look at him after he called it out during a meeting, and lastly The Worst Fighter Ever which was way too long.

So, he was stuck, with nothing. Which was bullshit, because Washington seems to come up with them left and right.

And he can't exactly ask the guy for a rude nickname that's for him.

The gold armored man sighs loudly, running a hand through his hair. A couple of lieutenants give him annoyed looks, he flips them off.

“Hey there, beaut-eye-ful!” Wash calls behind him, York curses internally, but turns around with a smirk on his face.

“Hey dickwad. How are you this lovely evening?” Dickwad? What the fuck York? That's too common. This is bullshit.

The other man chuckles through his helmet. York doesn't know why he wears his armor all the time, even Maine took his armor off sometimes.

And it's not like Wash had anything to hide... really! He was pretty attractive for a rookie. Most rookies would be ugly.

“I'm alright,” Wash wraps his arm around York's shoulders, the locksmith can hear the lieutenants whispering about them. Fuckers.

“Wyoming challenged South to an arm wrestle. I thought you might wanna join? To see Mario’s arm get broken once again.” Wash explained, ignoring the soldiers.  
“Might as well. I'm always up for Wyoming getting his ass beat.” York accepts the offer, and let's the taller man lead him to the soon to be war.

“Of course you are.” Washington snorts. York is about to elbow him, but decides he doesn't want to break any bones to Washington of all people.

On the way to wherever the other Freelancers are, York found himself basically burrowed into Wash's side. Which he did not like.

He shoves out of the taller man's side, who almost runs into a wall at the force. He's the one who snorts this time.

Washington rightens himself after a few minutes of twisting his helmet back on correctly, York can tell he's about to speak.

“So, out ever think of a rude nickname for me yet?” The gray and yellow Freelancer asks casually, York has to take a sharp intake of breath so he wouldn't start making sounds like a Banshee.

Wash is patiently waiting for an answer for once, and it bugs York so much. Too much. He ignores the other, giving him all the answer he needs.

The younger man seems to nod to himself, but doesn't say a word. York soon realizes that they're going to the locker room, he decides to say something about it.  
“Umm, is the party where everything stinks?” He jokes, Wash laughs softly.

“No. I need to do something real fast. You can go though, they're all in Wyoming and Florida's room.” Wash suggests, York shakes his head.

“Nah, I'd rather stay here with my main man.” He replies, that only being half the reason. The other half being that he had no idea where Wyoming and Florida's room was.  
Washington nods, and goes into the locker room. York follows, after having a war with himself on whether he should go in or not.

The younger Freelancer was already halfway out of his armor, when York walked in. He stares in shock, he didn't think Wash would take his armor off today.

“Wash…” York starts, the said Freelancer jumps in surprise. He turns to glare at the brunet, who starts laughing immediately.

“You're a dick.” The freckled man mutters, York nods in agreement.

“I sure do have one. A big one, to be exact.” He smirks when the taller man blushes furiously a mutters a “shut up.” He walks closer to Wash, sitting on one of the benches.

The slightly paler man continued to undress, ignoring the other Freelancer entirely. York studies the other man, noticing shaky hands and more scars than he realized.  
“You okay, man?” York asks concerned, Wash tenses at his voice. He's just in his bodysuit now, York can't help but notice how great his ass looks.

Yeah, that's right. He is checking Washington out, he's done it multiple times. Same with the other Freelancers. After all, he is a very attractive man.

“I… I would rather if you didn't watch me change.” He says, his voice sounds cold… empty. York nods anyway, giving the other the privacy he needs by turning away.  
He didn't mean to turn back around, really. But he could hear Washington breathing heavily, and he's a curious guy.

When he turned around, Washington's bodysuit is halfway down. The wires that connected Epsilon to him were messy, like someone was in a rush. The wires lead to something else though, a tattoo.

The tattoo was strange. There were many circles, like a bullseye. But instead of a circle in the middle, it was Epsilon's symbol. And there were spikes all around the circles, it was… strange. But fucking hot.

“Damn…” He whispers, turning back around quickly when he sees Washington freeze. He shifts slightly, hating how tight his pants seem to be.

“Okay. Let's go.” Wash mutters, closing his locker and jogging out. York growls, only catching Washington's retreating ass when he turns around.

He doesn't think he's ever wanted someone else so much before.

The brunet chases after the younger man, trying not to disturb his hard on that much. Because damn, Washington has a great body.

The taller man is wearing black sweatpants that look suspiciously like Carolina's, a white T-shirt, and is holding a hoodie. It's so casual, that York almost forgets everything, and almost shoves Wash against a wall.

Almost.

York closes his eyes, letting out a deep exhale. Wash glances at him, but looks down quickly. He's embarrassed, huh.

The shorter man smirked coldly, deciding to make the younger man's embarrassment worse. This was gonna be fun.

“So, Washy, you have a tattoo.” He states, smirk growing when Wash tenses. Oh yeah, this'll be great.

“Please. Don't.” Washington whispers, and holy fuck. Wash saying please is the hottest thing he's ever heard.  
“Didn't know you'd be brave enough to get one. Let alone somethin’ like that.” He says gruffly, Wash takes a ragged breath.

“Stop, York. No one can know. And I mean no one. York, please don't. I-I can't have anyone know, please…” York’s lips part slowly, nodding.

Never mind. Not that fun. Not that fun at all.

“Thank you.” The blond whispers, seeming to sag in relief. York's mouth twitches. He's not sure if it was going to be a smile or a frown.

York moved closer to Washington then, and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Maybe it's for comfort, maybe it's just because it looked like Wash was going to fall over.

They're quiet for a few minutes, the only sound is the sound of their feet padding on the ground and Wash’s now ragged breathing.

After Epsilon, Wash changed. A lot. And breathing was one of those things.

“Alrighty, we're here, One-Eye.” Wash comments, stopping in front if a door that had a badly painted moustache on it and tons of flowers.

York snorts at the nickname, but smiles slightly anyway. Opening the door, some sort of crappy pop music is playing, and all the other freelancers are there.

Florida and Wyoming were sitting in a corner, Florida giggling every few minutes. York is sure Wyoming is telling the other Knock Knock jokes. Poor Florida.  
Carolina and South were playing pool with Maine watching silently, York isn't sure how Wyoming and Florida got a pool table in their room. But kudos to them.

Tex and North were standing around a bowl that looked suspiciously like a mixture of alcohol. York stared at it longingly, already knowing where he was going.

The freckled freelancer moved out from under his arm, and motioned over to where Maine was standing, watching South and Carolina's game. York nodded, and pointed over to the alcohol. Washington rolled his eyes, but walked away with a thumbs up.

The shorter man couldn't help but stare at Washington's ass as he walked away, it was a nice ass.

Shaking his head, he walks towards North and Tex. They both nod and smirk at him, but continue their conversation.

He blushes, and grabs a cup, filling it full of the liquid. He wonders what mixture it would be, knowing Florida, it'd be good but nerve-wracking. But everyone else seemed fine.

Knowing the other two were glancing at him every couple of minutes, he turns away to find Washington.  
It wasn't that hard, he was standing close to Maine. So close that they were basically leaning against each other, York growls low in his throat. But the noise dies when Wash pulls away from Maine, to put on his hoodie.  
York looks away from the younger man, a fierce blush crossing his face, he can tell North and Tex are staring at him.

“What?” He snaps in a croaking voice. They both give him a knowing look. Tex snorts, and walks off to Florida and Wyoming. North stays where he is, and raises a non-existent eyebrow.

“You like him.” North states, a small smile forms onto his face. York growls once again. North was a nice guy, really. But he could be a real asshole.

“No. I don't. You do.” York mutters, North chuckles at the comeback. Only making York scowl in return.

“Don't lie. Lying is bad.” North demands, quickly adding on, “And everyone already knows you like him.” York sputters.

“W-What? Really?” He questions. North nods and takes a sip of his drink, looking away from him and at Wash. York follows North's direction with his eyes, he freezes.  
Agent motherfucking Washington was wearing a hoodie. Not just any hoodie. But a damn cat hoodie.

His hood was up, cat ears were at the top. And there were little paw and scratch marks all over it. York makes an odd whimpering sound, slamming his drink onto the table. He stalks over to Wash, leaving North behind.  
When he gets to the younger man, he instantly pulls down Washington's hood and wraps his arms around him. The taller man jumps.

“Mmm, I think I just thought of the perfect nickname for you.” York whispers gruffly, swaying them both side to side. He feels the blond's breath hitch.

“A-And what would that be, One-eye?” Washington asks in a stuttering voice, York smirked dangerously.

“Kitten.” He whispers in the other man's ear, kissing it softly, loving the short whimper Wash gives.

He can tell everyone is staring at them, and he honestly couldn't care less. The only thing on his mind was Washington. And only Washington.

“Gonna fuck my Kitten so good.” York growls, grinding against the other man's ass harshly. The freckled man moans, and throws his head back. York instantly attacks his neck.

“As much as I love Gay Porn, stop. For the love of god, stop.” South groans, throwing her hands up into the air. North sputters, “You watch Gay Porn?!”

That's when they start arguing. Carolina and Maine look at each other with eyebrows raised, they return to the game, Maine taking South's place.

York unlatches himself from Wash, they're both blushing terribly. Tex starts to laugh at them, Wyoming making it worse by making kissy noises at them. Florida stands up and walks over to them.

“I'd love to watch you two frick frack in the sack, but I'm not sure anyone else would. So…” The two get the idea, ignoring Florida's comment, they leave waving goodbye.

And York, York knows he's going to have a lot of fun with his little Kitten for a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> This did not end the way I wanted it to, but I had to rush to work on an essay. Thoughts?


End file.
